


best wishes

by trash_devil



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, dont run through the snow with asthma kids, i have no clue, is this angst?, is this fluff?, no matter how gay you are, take it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 18:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19932481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_devil/pseuds/trash_devil
Summary: Kenny,I love you. Happy birthday.Stan





	best wishes

It was 7:00 on a Wednesday night, and Stan suddenly remembered it was Kenny’s birthday. 

He fumbled with his phone, dropped it on the floor, picked it up, almost dropped it again, and okay, maybe he was a little drunk. 

He had been a little drunk for the last six years.

But whatever, it was Kenny’s birthday, and damned if he wasn’t gonna call.

His first try went directly to voicemail.

So did the second. And the third. He could feel a bubble of anxiety forming in his chest.

He tried texting him instead.

_Message failed to send._  
_Message failed to send._  
_Message failed to send._

The bubble burst. 

In a flurry of panic he threw on his coat and thundered down the stairs. His mom gave him an odd look as he barrelled past, a question on her lips.

She decided it was answered when he scooped up the plastic tupperware of their leftovers on the way out.

Such a thoughtful boy, she thought.

Stan broke out running. The air burned his lungs, and he clutched his inhaler tightly in his free hand as he sprinted through the streets.

He slowed down as he approached Kenny’s house. The lights were on, which was good. 

His lungs heaved with a shuddery squeak. Breathe. Breathe. 

_ssss_ went the inhaler.

He wandered up to the door, heard a distant thumping. 

Kenny might have been accident-prone, but there was something… rhythmic about it. Something that made Stan think that maybe his friend wasn’t falling to his death or whatever. He pressed his ear to the chipped wood surface of the door.

_“Kenny, ah, I-”_

_“Don’t worry, Kyle-baby. I got you.”_

_“I wanna… make you feel good too…”_

_“You already are, babe.”_

Stan let out a slow sigh of relief. 

Alive. He was alive. 

He wondered if there was something wrong with him as he listened to the sounds of his two best friends - the two things he loved most in the world - having sex. It was something he should be mad about, right?

But he just felt… a sort of achy happiness. Because they were alive, they were safe, they were happy. So he was happy too.

He set the tupperware of cooling food on the porch and wrote a quick note to tape to the lid.

_Kenny,_

_I love you. Happy birthday._

_Stan_


End file.
